It has been 12 days without social media, and after experiencing a wonderful disconnect, I found myself doomscrolling legitimate news channels. No matter what I do, the media on my screens steals my time.
Like a thief in the night, I did not realize everything was gone until I opened my jewelry box and all the treasures were missing. Clarity was replaced with brain fog. My calm was switched out for chaos.
What I gained after the past few days of doom distractions was information that would not matter in 5 years, like why Ben Affleck was kicked off Instagram two times. Why did I need to scroll through that “news” story instead of doing some yoga, reading my book or cleaning my house? I also learned a lot about politics, business and lost some of myself in the process.
Yesterday, I disconnected with a long hike, good people and beautiful views. I did take some photos but it was not for Meta. It was just a great day and I want to remember it. I was watching rocks instead of finding out what Ben Affleck was doing with Instagram.
Just like that, my heirlooms were back. I feel more at peace and can see again, literally and figuratively. I liken the experience to wearing my prescribed corrective lenses. Since high school, I cannot legally drive without them, and when I peered through the oculars on the vision machine at 18, I remember asking the proctor at the DMV which language was the exam in. I could not imagine that it was a proper English alphabet that I was seeing, but with my glasses I recognized every letter. That is what it feels like to feel better. I can see again.
This process for change is never a straight line and I will continue to be patient with myself.
What I know right now:
I am calmer today.
Yesterday was amazing.
I am grateful my body allowed me to reconnect with nature.
I tried to be consistent and write a post yesterday, but just went to bed instead. It was a long day of living and had no desire to do anything but be in the moment.
I am having no regrets about giving up social media, but for the past few days, I have had the most vivid dreams. I am wondering if my subconscious is taunting me with the need to share in my dreams. Bob Kraft died and Matt Damon and Ben Affleck asked me to join them for their next project. I just had to be in the moment and take no photos.
Back to the real flex…last night was over 8 hours of sleep and according to Professor Apple Watch I scored 99. The only thing not perfect was interruptions with a score 19/20. I am working on my desire to not impress my watch but not today.
Yesterday, my body was so quiet and I took advantage of a bluebird day with this broken body. I hiked Mt Crawford at the peak of foliage for the best day of color we have seen in years.
I looked strong and I am seeing my muscles pop from my boring training plan. On the way down when things were working I was grateful for my shift in workouts over the past two weeks. My feet did some amazing things and my weak left leg did the job. No need for poles doing some steep challenging terrain. The trees were quiet on this path but silently stunning.
I am noticing that the scale keeps moving up(I fought the desire to write “in the wrong direction”) and I am learning not to care about weighing 157 pounds this morning. I need to fuel this body for this life and not be worried about being skinny. I am trying to remember that bones and muscle show up on the scale.
I ate a lot of carbs yesterday and it’s working…so here is to carbs and more weight on the scale. Lets see where this journey takes me.
I am on Day Two without any social media and continue to delete every app on my phone that buzzes me. My wrist has become so quiet which might be one of the reasons I slept so well last night.
Surprisingly, I think Reddit was the biggest offender.
I reread my blog post yesterday and found some grammatical errors. I am curious if my writing will improve when I get more disconnected from the media. I am seeing the beauty in my mistakes, because in this climate of auto correct and too many filters, I might have forgotten who I am.
I woke up and confirmed with my watch that my sleep score was exceptional. I scored a 96 according to Professor Apple Watch. I only lagged in duration with a 47/50 and interruption was a solid 19/20. My bedtime was a perfect 20/20.
I am not willing to become 100% technology free, but I am excited to see where I land on this journey. Maybe I will graduate from Apple Watch Health App and start an Independent Study Course for this unpredictable body. But for now, I am celebrating a decent night of sleep which I did not expect at 53. Sleep has always been my biggest obstacle.
I have noticed more time in my schedule, and it has gone into cleaning my house.
So here is to another new day of choosing messy over perfection. It has translated into a more relaxed wardrobe and, so far, a little more clarity. Similar to my house, it is not perfect, but fewer dirty dishes lingered in the sink today and the bed is made.
I ran today with a lot of pain, but was not as annoyed with my broken body. I think the pain is getting a little better as I argue with my joints and brain. It is clear my body needs a shift. My ankle and feet have been killing me as I argue with my MS. My body wants to move one way but my body needs to move a different way if I want to keep running and hiking. The constant tug of war has led to some loud arguments.
Then I swam in the lake for maybe the last time of the season and loved it after I got over how cold it was. It helps to remind me that people pay money for ice baths, and I can have a similar experience for free,
It is nice to not be worried about photos for social media and wondering what people might think or who I might offend. I am focused on my inner circle and being more thoughtful about those people.
The people who I really care about and want to see every one of their photos. The people who know the good, bad and ugly about me and keep showing up. I also know the same about them.
Today, I officially signed up for the Paris Marathon. It might have been good for social media, but I don’t care. I just want to see Paris on my feet and this broken body. I am not sure if it is my future, but I have a date with Paris in April next year. I made a $215 financial commitment to do my best to be there.
Ever since my first diagnosis, planning for a pain free mobile future has terrified me. I am learning to face my fears and see where life takes me. It wont hurt me to train for the future even if it still terrifies me. It started by walking on a new Adventure Trail tonight and I loved every second as I mentally prepared for training while listening to the trees. I swear there are sections where they are so loud.
The final straw might have been the doctor with a perfect 4-pack explaining how to use a Bosu. She is not a doctor in exercise science or anything related. She is doctor jumping on the longevity/hormone craze with tons of videos in the gym or with big hats walking by a beach. Her medical background was in media, so that is at least more aligned with self-promotion.
Or, the other doctor walking fast with a military vest filled with water screaming about aging as female. Again, she is not a trainer or someone with an exercise background, but one of the new aging/hormone experts with a speciality on scaring the shit of women.
Or, watching Serena Williams, my kids idol, promote GLP1’s during the US Open. The US Open was one of our favorite memories as a family, when it was affordable to go. We won’t even discuss who profits off that advertisement.
Or, maybe the millionaire investor showing people how not to die while he planks on top of his girlfriend to manage his stress after being diagnosed with a chronic disease, that he plans on curing. And, ChatGPT argued with me that it was possible for him to cure chronic disease.
I can not take another person going after my time and money for something that is not making me or anyone around me any better.
I tap out for now. I deleted social media from my phone, and whenever my watch buzzes with a new alert I will deactivate whatever account has tapped into my life. Goodbye Reddit!!
I had already broken up with ChatGpt a few weeks ago after a long argument about some guy with no science degree and his quest to cure his chronic disease. Yes, we were not aligned and our relationship is beyond repair. Maybe after some revaluations we can meet again on better terms, but that was a deal breaker for me. You touched a place sacred to me. Dangerous statements about curing chronic disease was the hill I am willing to die on in our relationship.
In all my life curing a chronic disease was not possible, but now if you fill your house with ring lights and expensive equipment and charge people 1 million dollars a year for the full service or $333 for the discounted protocol you can make these statements.
It’s hard enough to be healthy in 2026, trying to run a business managing diseases that I am reminded takes people out of living on the regular.
If I have a choice, living will not involve this time suck right now. My time is too precious. Just so you know I have been on borrowed time for years. What the heck was I wasting time reading stuff that upset me on a regular basis? My mind would have benefited more from watching my bird feeder for 3 hours a day.
I will edit this blog by proofreading it and don’t feel the need to like, share or comment. I am going to see what happens to my brain when I spend more time outside, running, walking, reading and doing nothing.
I am sharing the final photo I shared on my story. On my walk last night I noticed this tree in the woods. Hopefully it was a good sign for this decision today.
Just some information about my grammar. I am dyslexic and will not be using any editing tools to filter my thoughts. Feel free to find the mistakes in my writing. I am a work in progress and eager to see what unfolds. This is a raw unfiltered version of me.
Last year, on my birthday, I colored my hair for the last time.
Not because gray hair matters. But because something stopped making sense.
I was listening closely to my body when it came to food, sleep, stress, recovery, training, gut health, and hormones. I was careful and disciplined. And yet, when it came to how I looked, I was doing the opposite. Sitting longer than recommended in a chair. Letting chemicals soak into my scalp so my white roots wouldn’t show. Ignoring the same body I claimed to respect everywhere else.
That disconnect mattered.
So for my 52nd birthday, I gave myself a gift. I stopped coloring my hair and agreed to sit in the discomfort. I promised I wouldn’t hide any part of this transition.
Not the gray roots. Not the bloated belly that shows up sometimes. Not the tight jeans. Not the poor sleep that comes from under-fueling and paying for it later.
And not the truth that multiple things can exist at once.
I can look incredible in a little black dress and two days earlier feel bloated and uncomfortable. I can feel strong and grounded and still have my body respond when my period shows up and everything shifts. That isn’t failure. That’s physiology.
I wasn’t going to curate this into something cleaner or more linear than it is.
Because longevity isn’t polished. It’s lived.
When You Stop Hiding, You Get Seen
What I didn’t fully appreciate was how visible that decision would make me.
When you live out loud and stop hiding, people notice. And with visibility comes commentary. Opinions. Projections. Sometimes thoughtful. Sometimes careless. Sometimes just a single word with no explanation.
That’s part of the deal.
Longevity training has taught me that being alive invites judgment — not because you’re doing something wrong, but because you’re doing something real.
Over the past year, I’ve heard opinions about my hair, my body, my intensity, my work. I’ve been told to transition slowly. To keep coloring. To shave my head. To cut it short because I “have the bone structure.” I’ve been told I’m too skinny. Too intense. Too much. Not credible.
I’ve even been called a scammer. In all caps. With no curiosity. No context.
And despite decades in this industry and real results, I still hear the voice in my head that says: you’re fat.
That isn’t weakness. That’s conditioning.
The Auntie
Self-doubt didn’t start online.
It started with the first auntie who hugged me and told my mother she needed to “do something about this,” while grabbing my waist. So when doctors later told me to lose weight, it felt familiar. Praise and criticism lived in the same place in my body. Approval and shame tangled early.
Today, we understand that grabbing someone’s body and commenting on it crosses a line. And yet social media has created a loophole — a socially approved version of the unsolicited comment.
The modern auntie.
Sometimes it’s framed as concern. Sometimes as advice. Sometimes it’s just mean. Either way, it usually says more about the person offering it than the person receiving it.
Once I saw that, things got easier.
Recently, a family member expressed concern that one of my photos wasn’t “professional enough” because there was a little nipple exposure. I laughed. Genuinely. I wasn’t embarrassed. I didn’t explain or fix anything.
I didn’t give a fuck.
Another time, someone told me I shouldn’t let my hair keep growing out because it “looked so good” when it was short and gray. I understood what they meant. They liked it that way. It felt familiar.
But I didn’t do this to land on a version of myself that made other people comfortable. I did it to see what it felt like to keep going — to live inside my own choices instead of stopping where others felt reassured.
And when I catch that old voice in the mirror — you’re fat — I recognize it instantly. I know where it came from. I say, I heard you, auntie. And then I move on.
Not because I don’t care or their opinion has no value. But because I’m good with my choices.
That’s the shift.
Not the absence of commentary, but the absence of obligation to respond to it. Recognizing that this might be their thing — not mine.
Listening Instead of Fighting
What this year taught me wasn’t how to override my body — it was how to listen to it.
Yes, there were years when my body felt like it betrayed me. Pain. Weight changes. Autoimmune diagnoses. Hormonal chaos. But part of that story was also me ignoring it. Pushing through signals. Expecting performance without listening.
So who was betraying who?
I stopped fighting.
I started paying attention — to what it needed, what it was asking for, and when it needed less pressure, not more.
That didn’t make my body easy or predictable. It made the relationship more honest. Less adversarial. Less about control and more about trust.
Longevity, for me, has been about rebuilding that relationship. Not perfection. Not blind obedience. Just mutual respect.
Being Seen Without Explaining Yourself
What makes me me are the imperfections. The laugh lines. The stress vein that pops out of my head. The silver that was hidden for years.
Sometimes that means reintroducing myself to people who don’t recognize me anymore.
That’s okay.
Because what I’ve gained is more valuable than being familiar or palatable.
It’s liberating to be authentic. To stop editing yourself for comfort. To let your body and choices reflect a life that’s actually being lived.
I’m no longer trying to be acceptable. I’m visible.
And once you live this way, you’re not easily forgotten.
The Long Game
Longevity training isn’t flashy.
It’s boring habits done consistently. It’s restraint. Discernment. Boundaries. It’s choosing a body that feels good over one that just looks acceptable. A life that actually works over one that needs approval.
This doesn’t mean certainty.
I still doubt myself. I still question how things will land. I still feel uncomfortable sometimes.
But I don’t fight it. I don’t explain myself. I don’t correct someone else’s story.
I check in with myself.
Do I feel strong. Do I sleep well. Do I recognize myself in my own life.
